Mental Health, Mothers' Day


Dear Queen,

I’m not sure which sin I’m trying to atone in this letter but I know for a fact that intrinsically, deep, deep down, I am tainted. A tainted daughter, sister, aunt, niece, relative, friend, student, citizen, blogger – whatever it is, I am tainted. A tainted and temperate human.

I find myself wallowing in self-pity. Self loathing, constantly going to pieces. I’ve convinced myself that I’m desperately foul inside, both in my heart and in my brain. Apologizing for this insidious and compounding illness to you every time and especially today, is a horrible way to celebrate you on this Mothers’ Day or on your birthday that is due tomorrow. I hate the fact that apologies in this context are just words, because words are transient.

Mama, these are the thoughts mulling around in my bipolar brain. I have this hedonistic desire to journey this trial while loving on the truth. Writing about my condition feels like a blank slate, taking away some of my own drama with each post. This is my internet ‘black box’ where I can voice everything that I do not voice to you and the people in my life. This is a glimpse into my breaking heart through my bleeding pen, allowing my thoughts to be glamourised by the anonymity and obscurity of the web.

I’m sorry that I have become too lethargic, too ratty, too cross, too self-involved or too narcissistic to sometimes acknowledge you. Here’s to let you know that you are my all. Thank you for loving me through my sins and failures. Thank you for loving me to life.